


Please Remember

by mos



Category: The 100 (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 04:30:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4815098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mos/pseuds/mos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abby seeks solace with Marcus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please Remember

**8**

 

Eight. That's how old Abby was the first time she had a sleepover at Vera and Marcus Kane's living unit. She remembered the age so well because it was two days after her birthday, and a hair ribbon that her mother had given her as a present had become the new point of contention between her parents.

The worst thing about her parents fighting was that it was never physical. It would have been so much easier to be upset if there was slapping and kicking and throwing things in anger, because those things were easier to explain. It was harder to explain how much worse words were, how much deeper they cut, and how she was always in the middle of their verbal wars, wounded again and again.

She'd taken to sitting outside in the hallway in the evenings, working on homework and sometimes reading. Looking back, she wondered if someone had tipped off Vera Kane to her situation, because the woman seemed a little too deliberate about the way she stopped to chat. Abby never forgot the words that had thrown her a lifeline, offered her a safe haven for the next few years:

"I'm sorry that your parents upset you," she had said, with that easy, kind smile. "You're more than welcome to come and study at my place, if you like."

Abby's parents dismissed Vera's church as foolishness and false hope, and that was part of the reason that Abby took the woman's hand and went with her. It was a small defiance, a quiet little rebellion against them.

It wasn't until they walked into Vera's unit that Abby remembered Vera's son. Marcus was two years older than Abby, a quiet boy who occasionally spoke up in their few shared classes to offer some insight that nobody had thought about before. They'd spoken in passing, but had never had a conversation. When Abby and Vera walked in, he was sitting at their table, studying. He looked unsurprised to see her, as if she wasn't the first rescue case Vera had brought home.

"Marcus, you know Abby," Vera said, ushering Abby to the seat opposite him. "She's going to study here tonight."

"Okay," Marcus said, and went back to reading something on his tablet.

Abby pulled out her own. "What are you reading about?"

"Weapons," Marcus replied, without hesitation. "Swords are a really effective weapon, but you have to get up close to use them. But with guns, you can slay from afar and do the most damage. They're the best."

"Don't you mean worst?" she asked.

He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. I guess I do."

Silence fell between them for a few minutes, Abby reflecting on whether or not guns were the worst weapon.

"You know what's a worse weapon than guns?" she asked.

"What?" Marcus asked.

"Words," Abby replied, and went back to her study of the sixth extinction.

 

**11**

 

From that day on, Abby spent most evenings there, the quiet and happiness of the Kane household a relief from the verbal warzone that was her own. One night she went back home to a terrible fight and retreated back to Vera and Marcus. An unsurprised Vera tucked her into bed next to Marcus, and from then on, whenever the fights between her parents were bad, Abby would slip away.

Their sleepovers went on until she was eleven, when Abby's mother threw a glass at her father one afternoon and cut a deep gash in his neck. Somewhere in the chaos of the blood and shouting, and the medics and the guard storming in, Abby's mother was arrested.

After she was floated, Abby stayed in her own bed. It was quiet after that, except for her soft sobs as she cried herself to sleep.

Her father started drinking, and whenever the loneliness became too much, Abby would slip out and curl up next to Marcus. He was the place she felt most peaceful, most comforted. Sometimes her head would tuck neatly into the cradle of his shoulder, and as they'd fall asleep he'd tell her stories about Earth, describing forests and oceans and all the strange creatures that used to live in them. He'd paint them a paradise with his words, and she'd always fall asleep smiling.

 

**13**

 

Abby woke one morning with blood between her thighs and a small puddle on her bedsheet, and her father took her down to medical to get a contraceptive implant inserted into her arm.

After that, Vera made them sleep with the door open. When word got out amongst their friends that they frequently shared a bed, the teasing and laughter was enough to drive Abby home.

Still... sometimes when the loneliness was too much, she'd wander over anyway, pushing open his door and waking him with a whisper.

"Marcus? Marcus, can I stay?"

 

**16**

 

Abby would never remember the last time she'd sneaked into Marcus's bed, but she remembered the last time she tried. She was sixteen and it had been a long time, but when she went over one night, she found another girl there instead. He was eighteen and she'd seen the other girls glancing his way. She felt foolish for not having seen it coming.

After that, she promised to never go again, and in the end, it was an easy promise to keep, because he joined the guard and she started dating Jake and suddenly they weren't really friends anymore.

 

**42**

 

His words were the worst weapon he could use against her, and he knew it. Time and time again, even as he stared her down, she didn't believe he'd fire the shot.

But he did, over and over again. (The apology came later, with carefully chosen words.)

_You are hereby sentenced to death. (I had those fears myself.)_

_We all knew it was a long shot. (I did hear you, you know.)_

They'd fallen apart in the same way they'd fallen together, but even afterward ended up circling each other, never quite able to untangle themselves from each other's gravity. She pretended indifference until the day his mother died, when she saw on his face all the weary sorrow that had been on her own, time and time again when she sought him out for comfort all those years ago.

 _Marcus_. His name was her apology. _Kane_ was her weapon, and they'd battled too long.

She'd often thought, over the years, that there was a wall between the Marcus she'd known and the rest of the world, and she watched it slowly crumble, watched him bumble through the wreckage and fall out the other side. He appeared before her eyes in a boiling hot service bay, her head settling into that place on his shoulder where it fit so well.

In the end, he came back to her and she to him. They stopped trying to untangle their gravities, started circling again, closer this time.

One day after they'd fallen to the ground together, the loneliness crept back in. Her daughter was gone and Earth was full of terrors and war, and she found herself wandering to him one sleepless night, the longing for comfort finally having overrun her pride.

"Please remember," she whispered, as she pushed open the door to his room. "Marcus?"

"Hmm?"

"Marcus, wake up."

"Abby?" He sounded half-asleep. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. I just... can I stay?"

She was met with silence, and for a moment she thought he'd fallen back asleep, that he'd forgotten all the other times she'd asked that question. Then came the answer, the same as it had always been: "Come here."

Relief flooded through her, and she crossed the room and pulled back the covers, climbing into bed next to him. Turning to her side, she faced him, barely able to make out his face in the dark.

"Okay?" he asked.

She shook her head, and the tears came before she could try to stop them. "I want to go home," she said softly. "Marcus, I want to go home."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, reaching out to touch her cheek, catching a tear as it ran over her nose. "That was the best part of the Ark, wasn't it? It was safe there."

"I knew where everyone was. Nobody could just... walk away."

"Hey. She'll come home."

And then he pulled her in, and silence fell upon them as her head found the spot in the crook of his shoulder where it fit best. It made a solid pillow, but was no less comforting than it had been all those years ago.

"Never thought we'd be doing this again," he said.

They had an unspoken agreement that whatever happened after dark was not to be spoken of during the daytime. They didn't speak of the whispered words and her head on his shoulder. Nor did they speak of waking early one morning holding hands, somehow finding and clinging to each other even in their sleep. Not a word passed about how they'd fall asleep with their fingers tangled after that, or when the nights got cold in winter it was their limbs that tangled instead, her body fit snugly against his and his arms around her, his lips sometimes grazing her shoulder, and then her neck.

They didn't speak, either, of the night her lips finally captured his, nor of when he rolled her beneath him, drawing her hands up over her head, his mouth crushing down upon hers.

 _It doesn't count_ , she told herself, as she moaned against his lips, her hips bucking against him, begging for more.

 _It doesn't mean anything_ , she insisted silently, as his hand glided down to tease her clit, his fingers sliding inside her and a hiss of breath leaving his lips when he felt her melting for him.

 _I don't care_. His lips moved down her body, hot and moist on her nipples, her skin impossibly sensitive over her stomach and belly.

 _Never stop_. His tongue did things to her that had her crying out his name.

 _I felt this all along_. His eyes met hers in the dark, their breaths mingling as he glided into her, her legs around his waist.

 _I love you_. He kissed her gently as their heartbeats slowed, their skin slick with sweat. His eyes looked at her questioningly, but even as the truth slammed dizzily through her mind, she couldn't say it.

 _Please never let me go_. They fell asleep tangled together, like they always did.

They didn't speak of how it had somehow become love, and neither of them knew when or how it had happened.

On the day of the first spring storm, they stood by the fence, watching in fascination as the trees bowed and bent and branches broke loose and flew through the air. Somehow they found themselves hand in hand, brushing against each other first and then his fingers tracing circles on her palm, and then their hands linked together.

She turned and looked at him, the rain beginning to fall in sheets, and found him looking back at her.

The things that had happened in the dark began to seep into the light, gradually but steadily.

His hands would come to rest on her shoulders during a group discussion in the yard.

He'd kiss her goodbye on the cheek before he went into the forest with his patrols.

And sometimes, at dawn or dusk, or when nobody was around, she'd pull him into a shadow somewhere, pressing her lips to his until they were drowning in each other.

He'd play with her jacket collar and she'd trace the outline of a heart on his palm.

The words, however, took longer to seep out. There was nothing remarkable about the day they finally did. It was early summer and they were sitting by the river watching a hummingbird flit back and forth across the water. She wondered how such a fragile little thing had survived the chaos surrounding it.

"I love you," she said.

The hummingbird darted away into the forest as his eyes moved to her. His mouth turned up at the corners and his eyes twinkled.

"I know," he replied, taking her hand and tracing the outline of a heart on her palm. "I love you, too."

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know what this is. I just had this image of Marcus saying "Never thought we'd be doing this again" and then I listened to Please Remember by Leann Rimes and here we are.


End file.
